


Prison Break

by baeberiibungh



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, Abigail pov, Alive Abigail, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Complete, F/F, First Kiss, Happy Ending, M/M, Manipulation, Meta if you squint, Non-Explicit Sex, Possesiveness, Post Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 05:25:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6552802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeberiibungh/pseuds/baeberiibungh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will leaves with Hannibal. Abigail is alive. The teacup did not shatter. Then Abigail meets Chiyoh…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The reunion was staggering. Will slapped Hannibal and refused to look at him or talk with him just like he refused to let Abigail out of his sight. Will was angry, stupendously so. But he did not direct his anger or his need to vent violently at Abigail even one bit. It was Hannibal who had planned this. He was the one at fault, the one to be blamed. All this while the three packed furiously and systematically disentangled their life by ripping apart credit cards, microwaving the SIM cards and more to leave Baltimore once and for all. Their life there was finished and it was time for new places, perhaps new names and attachments and heavier secrets and baggage.

They leave, with fake passports clutched in their hands and hats and hair angled away from possible cameras and they board the plane and sit huddled together. Abigail kept drinking water, her apprehension making her throat dry. Will kept reaching out to her, touching the back of her hand, pulling her scarf more snugly against her, rubbing her hair away from her face and Abigail can’t help but give him timorous smiles with trembling lips and wet eyes as she did the same. She too kept reaching out to hold Will’s coat cuffs, fingers pinching the fabric and holding tight. Hannibal sat beside them, no effort to talk but a sense of protectiveness emanating from him nonetheless.

Paris is beautiful, truly the city of lights and Abigail gets a longer leash. With Hannibal, she was no better than a prisoner. The deal that kept her away from the state prisons for the murder of Nicolas Boyle and the others also kept her inside Hannibal’s house, always present even when he was not in the house, a convict bound not by chains but by fear. For as much as she feared being termed as her father’s daughter, and being sent to the prison with that fame hanging on her like a garland of rotting meat, she was equally afraid of Hannibal being done with her, of killing her. He was a serial killer after all, there was nothing shocking to be aware of that.

Abigail took very less time to realize that she was more a pawn for Hannibal to manipulate Will. She was kept alive more for the benefit of Will and how easy it will be bend Will to Hannibal’s will so long as he had Abigail to make the deals sweeter. For Will, the family was Hannibal and Abigail. For Hannibal, family was Will with him always and Abigail the treat for that devotion. Not all bindings are iron after all. Abigail was also aware that Hannibal felt some small fondness for her, but there was no interest, no curiosity. She was just a garden-variety killer after all, opportunity driven and willing to do anything to live. 

Will though, with his sense of morality, his fragile sense of forever being in a distraught limbo of other people’s identity, other people’s action, his absolutelyly brilliant brain, it was all a unique perspective to behold for Hannibal. Hannibal was completely besotted. Enough so that he wanted Will every way possible. Will was not circumspect to these manipulations so easily. Abigail understood that if he were, he would not have been so irresistible to Hannibal. They would play these little games, words and blood the swords of choice and Abigail would feel despondently alone.

However, Will always came for her. He took issues for her with Hannibal and Hannibal let him, bowing his waist in apologies as demanded, just because Will demanded them. None of that mattered much to Abigail though. Paris was too beautiful to not get lost there and forget the last filaments of guilt over her previous life. Also, Will and Hannibal were prone to have loud and messy hate sex at the drop of a hat, so she preferred being out rather than be at home. For this was her home now. She could go out, let Paris boys with dimpled chins and Paris girls with swirling short skirts flirt with her while she simply rejoiced in being alive.

Then, something happened. The mood at home changed. There was less fighting, but Will and Hannibal were no more closer except when they were having sex, when they would be just desperate to hold the charade of not carrying, of not wanting the other, to brand themselves into the other’s soul. Some secret had been breached, that Abigail may or may not have already been privy to. When Will first brought up going to Lithuania, Abigail understood that Hannibal told the truth about Mischa to Will, and this was his responsible response to whatever he found in Hannibal at the moment of confession.

Hannibal was not happy with the decision. He didn’t want Will to go to his old home, and by association Abigail as well for Will had invited her to come along. It took Will the whole of his seduction and imagination powers to get Hannibal to agree to let him leave for the few days, even though Abigail herself was not sure why Will was being so adamant about the matter. Hannibal did not want to go, so why would they need to go. Sure, there was curiosity to see where Hannibal grew up, there was a morbid fascination as to what of Mischa, either as a memory or as a memento, remained there as well as the puzzle of what Will wanted from there.

Hannibal finally relented and after a lengthy discussion as to how they would proceed seeing as how the three were still absconding criminals on the FBI’s watch list and strict instructions from Will not to kill any innocents no matter how rude, they left for Lithuania with more fake passports and light carryalls. Lithuania was not how Abigail had pictured as. The buildings looks stately and old and the new ones looked flimsy to her for some reason. They found out how to reach the Lecter place and they reached there within daylight only to face a strikingly beautiful woman holding a rifle pointed at their face.

Will told about Hannibal and that earned them a lowered gun. Abigail only looked on as the lady led them into the maze of the old Lecter kingdom.


	2. Chapter 2

Will handed the letter Hannibal sent to Chiyoh after their names had been exchanged for easy communication. Chiyoh gave no last name and Will nor Abigail asked again. Abigail was not aware that Hannibal had sent a letter for Chiyoh. If she had known, she might have taken a peek at it. Will of course was completely devoid of any curiosity and hence did not even open the envelop. No, it’s not that Will did not have any curiosity, it was merely the fact that he rarely felt the need to act on it. Perhaps it was because he already saw so much, more information was thus not a priority when it was of no immediate import.

Chiyoh led them through rough undergrowth to an old mansion. It was huge and breaking and had missing walls in some part and nonexistent roofs in another. There was no usable furniture, everything dusty and damp patches visible in the still standing sections of walls. Chiyoh took them through a rickety iron staircase that swayed like crazy when they walked up it. It also creaked like it was going to break at any moment, and in spite of Will and Abigail’s misgivings, they reached the floor above. There, two rooms stood clean and spartan with only one wooden chair and one small bed furnishing one. The other was a kitchen and work space with books in towering stacks.

Chiyoh headed towards the kitchen counter, where she plunked down two ducks on the wooden board. Without saying anything to the pair, she started taking out the feathers of the ducks. Abigail checked the books and found some to be in English, Japanese and French amidst the stacks. Some were books that she had heard of as well, although she could not find even one book that she had read before. There were four stools by one wall, low hanging and sturdy, so she pulled two over and made Will sit on one. Chiyoh was very efficient and had the ducks denuded very quickly. She hung them over the fire place, skin completely intact and then got down the two that were dangling just above the fire, already cooked.

She took out a big knife and began to chop the duck into pieces. She put one cooked duck into aluminium foil and wrapped it up. The other she chopped and distributed into three groups. She brought three plates, old and expensive looking and in good condition and placed the portions on them. Next, she poked the fire and then pulled out some potatoes out of it. She cut them in half and placed two in each plate with the duck. Next, she got a tall vase like jug made of earthenware, that actually looked like a pricey antique and filled it with water from the tap. She took out three mismatched glasses, all looking pristine and filled it with the water.

She handed the plates and glasses to Will and Abigail, before bringing over her plate and began to eat with her hands. Taking their cue from her, Abigail and Will started eating too. Abigail assumed that Chiyoh had already read the letter, but she didn’t say anything. They ate quickly in silence and then Chiyoh took their plates and glasses away, threw the bones and gnarly bits that Abigail didn’t eat into a plastic pot and washed the utensils. Done with that, Chiyoh went back to the stool she was sitting on and took out the envelop from the folds of her jacket.

Abigail immediately saw that the envelop had been sealed with wax or something, so she most probably would not have been able to open it up anyway. Hedging a look at Will, Abigail wondered if _that_ was why Will didn’t even try. The letter looked short, just one page long and after staring at the letter for too long, for Abigail assumed that Chiyoh must have finished reading the letter by then, Chiyoh got up and threw the letter into the fire which gobbled it up merrily. Will pursed his lips, his need, almost obsession of holding onto anything of Hannibal’s rivaling only Hannibal’s possessive boner for Will apparent.

“Where are you staying?” Chiyoh asked, stilted and rough voice, more from disuse rather than from inability. She enunciated each word carefully and had a lingering accent but Abigail found her voice soothing, a bit waspish as if she had difficulty following the ‘s’ sounds, a low buzz just below her words. Will said, “Nearby.”

Something about the answer seemed to piss Chiyoh off but Will didn’t seem affected by it, which was obviously a lie as Will was affected by every living individual in his vicinity.

“That is good. There is no space here anyway,” Chiyoh provided sensibly. Abigail wondered if it was her trying to tell them to leave her alone now that they had given the letter and it had been burned and thus any kind of proof extinguished that Chiyoh did receive the letter. Or maybe it had been Hannibal himself who told Chiyoh to burn the letter. She looked around the room, filled only with books on one side and a serviceable kitchen on the other and tried to imagine for what reason would Chiyoh stay in this crumbling palace all alone, just looking over a dead place to where no one was going to return.

“Hannibal has told me to show you something,” Chiyoh said in a sedate voice.

“What?” Abigail asked.

“Come with me,” said Chiyoh. She got up, washed her hands once, picked up the rifle so that it’s strap lay across her chest, picked up the aluminum wrapped packet and went out of the door. She climbed down the stairs again, Will and Abigail in tow and headed out. Some distance away, there was something that looked like a gazebo, except when they reached it, Abigail saw that it was actually an entrance to a small building. From inside came some loud thumps, like rock on iron. Chiyoh went inside and the two followed her.

It smelled absolutely gross inside, the floor littered with hundreds, perhaps thousands of small bones that cracked and broke under their shoes as they walked in. It was a large room, broken into two with iron bars barricading the other half. The smell was even worse from near the prison, for that what it was, and Abigail could just barely make out the form of a man, slumped over the filthy ground as he beat the iron bars with a wooden bowl. The man had matted bread and hair and when Chiyoh threw the pieces of cooked duck at the man, the man whined and began to eat them right off the dirty floor.


	3. Chapter 3

“Who is he?” Will asked, revulsion clear in his voice, the click of his swallow just after the words clear under the faint growling of the man as he tore into the meat like something feral.

“An old friend of Hannibal’s,” Chiyoh answered breezily, except it didn’t sound that breezy to Abigail, but somewhat sharper, as if she were saying three things at once. 

“A friend?” Will asked astonished, his voice almost strangled. 

“Well, perhaps not a friend. They did share a meal though, many years ago,” Chiyoh said. 

Instant understanding slammed into Will and Abigail. This is one of the men who acted as the catalyst for the man that Hannibal turned out to be. 

“How is he still alive? Why has Hannibal not killed him yet?” Will asked of Chiyoh.

“Because I stopped him,” Chiyoh answered evenly.

“Why?” Abigail asked.

“Because Hannibal was my friend then and I did not want Hannibal to become a killer,” said Chiyoh.

“That is why you remain here, guarding the one kill he did not make. He killed the rest because he wanted the assurance that they died. This one, you have taken over the assurance, right? You did not let Hannibal kill him. You yourself will not kill him. But you will wait and watch for the day he dies so that you can finally go and tell Hannibal that he is dead. If you kill him, your term is over, but you still hold, still wait and thus stay bound to this place of old memories that still carry the faint echoes of his screams. Isn’t that so?” Will asked Chiyoh.

Chiyoh gave a tiny smile at that, her eyes glittering in the faint evening light falling through the thick slats that made up the room and fixed on the man done eating and now mumbling something to himself. “Perhaps it is so.” She turned and looked at Will, her eyes still and unmoving as she stared at Will without blinking. “I can see why he is so interested, so enamored of you Will Graham. Do you always see so much?”

Will gave a shark bite smile of his own and said, “More often than not.”

“Why did Hannibal wanted us to see this man?” Abigail asked. 

“ _That_ you will have to ask him yourself,” said Chiyoh. Will frowned at that, possibly vexed that the motive didn’t seem clear yet. Abigail didn’t say anything to that.

The three returned back to the mansion. It was dark now, the trees blocking the little light that the sinking sun was giving. Chiyoh had made no mention of them returning to their place of stay, and Will and Abigail knew that it was too late and dark to go traipsing through the trees and protruding rocks here and there without adequate light to head to their hotel. So Chiyoh walked on and they followed. Abigail knew that Will was also interested in the house that Hannibal had grown up in, if for nothing else then at least to have a vague idea about the layout of Hannibal’s memory palace. 

The lights didn’t work in most of the rooms, and Abigail did not dare go too far as she investigated the broken down house around her. It was kind of sad for her, to see the remains of a place that once held happy families lying so despondent and lonesome, so empty and silent. It reminded her of her own home, with her father and mother before her father became the Minnesota Shrike. There was never loud laughter then, but there had been happiness, and contentment, warm hugs from her mother and piggy rides from her father and a school that still held the promise of friends and unknown knowledge.

In one room, there was another fire place and a lone bulb cast a dim shadow of light over the area. The chimney had fallen in the fireplace, blocking it and on two of its corners stood two busts of people long dead. One of the bust was missing it’s ear. It was a very empty space, devoid of meaning or warmth and she thought about how Chiyoh had been living here for years and years just to keep her promise to Hannibal, and Hannibal too had never come to investigate if she had or not. Such mutual faith was unfathomable for her. And a tad suspicious too as well. Her father used to promise her the world, look where it got her.

When she heard Will calling for her, Abigail abandoned her search and headed to Chiyoh’s room. Chiyoh had managed to bring forth two tattered mattresses that Will was trying to clean as best as he could. There were threadbare bedsheets to go with them as well. Will made both the beds. They had bread and soup for dinner on expensive cut glass old plates and glasses. Will rolled up his jacket and gave it to Abigail to use as a pillow. He had already called the hotel to let them know that he would be out that night and to keep their room booked. Will fell asleep quickly. Abigail lay on her makeshift bed and stared at Chiyoh.

Chiyoh had stashed her rifle somewhere, and was sitting on the bed, legs crossed Indian style, as she looked out of the small window by her small bed. Abigail knew that the window aligned with the gazebo room they had been earlier where the man was kept. Abigail shuddered a bit, finding Chiyoh’s standing guard a bit morbid. The man could never leave and so Chiyoh would never leave. To draw such bindings on oneself by one own hands was something that Abigail had trouble understanding. And yet, the next morning, after Will got up and roused up the fitfully sleeping Abigail to leave for the hotel, she said, “I want to stay here Will. I want to stay here with Chiyoh.”


	4. Chapter 4

Will was beyond perplexed at Abigail’s demand and did not hesitate to let her know. 

“You cannot be serious Abigail. You cannot stay here. In this rumbling crumbling haunt of a house. Just because Chiyoh can do that doesn’t mean that you can or even need to. Please Abigail, try to think of what you are going to do,” said Will, his hands running in his own hair harshly in exasperation.

“Will. Will, why do you think Hannibal let us come?” Abigail asked him in a low voice.

Will pursed his lips in reluctance. He knew, he knew alright, but this was giving in too easy. This was not something beyond Hannibal, no this was just like him, things happening just as he must have predicted, things that Will didn’t catch in time.

“Why do you think that Hannibal did not stop us? Oh yeah, he gave all those dictats and conditions but if he really didn’t wanted, if he really didn’t allow, we wouldn’t be here Will. I…I know this is not something you wanted or even planned, but, I am just an awkward liability now Will and he wants me away, and isn’t this better? It’s either this or being killed by him, there is no other third option, Hannibal has seen to that. I don’t, I don’t need to make you understand this Will. And it’s not like I will be alone. Chiyoh will be here. She has been here for years and now I will be here too, Will please don’t try to circumvent this, you will not succeed,” said Abigail with the threat of tears in her throat.

Will bit his own lips, hard enough to almost draw blood. He was frustrated, he was angry and he will take it all out when he is back with Hannibal, but he will do it in the circle of Hannibal’s arms. He will be back where he belongs and Abigail will be where she deserves as per Hannibal’s wishes. He didn’t wanted to leave, he didn’t want to go, but Abigail at last made him leave, with promises that he would be back to visit them. Both Will and Abigail knew how empty those promises were, but both went on making them. If this lie was all they were going to get, then they could pretend for each other.

Will hugged Abigail for long minutes. No one uttered the word ‘goodbye’ but it was evident in the desperate clutch each had on the other for those minutes. Will gave a kiss to Abigail’s forehead, made a promise that Abigail knew Will would keep no matter what of sending her stuff from Paris, like the lone picture she had of her parents and had left there, her mother’s favourite sweater and the like. Will kept looking back and wiping his eyes under his glasses as he left. Abigail kept watching till he could see Will no more. Then she headed back to Chiyoh’s room. Chiyoh had left to give them the privacy needed. 

She was sitting on her bed like she had last night before Abigail went to bed. This time she was looking at the door and when Abigail stepped through, she made a slight movement of her body, bending to the side so that Abigail came and sat by her. 

They didn’t speak for an hour.

Then Abigail said, “I am to kill him, aren’t I? I am supposed to kill the prisoner and let you out, let you be free and this time it will be me stuck here, waiting for his word. Jack Crawford will not come looking for me here and Will will not leave Hannibal if he knows that I am here, safe from the world so as to speak. That was what was written in the letter right?”

Chiyoh gave a slow nod at that. 

“I have killed people before, you know, so you don’t have to worry. You don’t have to save me and keep my killer virginity intact,” Abigail said as she sat by Chiyoh, leaning against the wall behind her.

“Of course you have killed. I am sure Will Graham has killed people too. Hannibal would not have managed to keep either of you if you hadn’t done that,” said Chiyoh in her slightly broken sounding voice that Abigail had come to like within the duration of the day she had spent with her.

“Will you leave after?” Abigail asked, this time a fine tremor lacing her voice.

“I can leave now,” Chiyon answered.

“Will you leave?” Abigail asked, persistent.

“Do you want me not to?” Chiyoh asked.

“Would you stay if I asked you to?” Abigail asked, dutifully not looking at her now. 

“You want me to stay here for what exactly?” Chiyoh asked, turning to Abigail.

“Because I am here,” Abigail said simply.

“So you kill him and take his place?” Chiyoh asked this time.

“No. No, I am not his replacement, but I will be here now, so I am asking you to stay with me. I will stay with you too,” Abigail said.

“And that will be enough?” Chiyoh asked.

“Perhaps. Maybe. I don’t really know,” Abigail said, this time turning to face Chiyoh.

“You will stay here and want me to stay as well?” Chiyoh asked.

“Yes,” Abigail nodded. 

Chiyoh started laughing at that, loud guffaws of laughter and soon Abigail joined in too. They laughed and laughed till tears were rolling down their faces and they were huddled together on the small bed that Chiyoh had slept in for years. 

“How about we don't kill him, and you stay with me instead of the other way around? if things happen like that, you will stay, with me?” asked Chiyoh a lot of time later, after they laughed and laughed till they were crying.

“Yes,” said Abigail.

“Forever?” Chiyoh asked, her face an inch away from Abigail’s.

“Forever,” Abigail promised with a small kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

Seven years, three months and nineteen days after Will left and Abigail stayed behind with Chiyoh, their prisoner died. He had choked on a duck bone and had clawed his own throat out in order to get it out. Chiyoh found his dead body the next day, blood gelled into a black mulch that would never clean off the floor. Abigail was with her and when she saw the man lying on the ground, very obviously dead, a zing of premonition went through her. Chiyoh opened the gate of the prison, and pulled the man out till he was lying limp and lifeless under the sky. The man’s feature was practically indistinguishable, what with the matter beard and hair that had gone bald in some places like how uncared dogs went sometimes.

There was of course no chance of a funeral. The man did not deserve a quick death and now he did not precisely deserved a farewell from that life as well. There was no one to bid him goodbye. Chiyoh never even learned his name, just that he was under her directions and the least amount of care. Abigail and Chiyoh discussed what to do and when Abigail presented her idea, Chiyoh pursed her lips in disapproval, but did not air her misgivings. Abigail went back to their quarters, now completely renovated with state of the art plumbing and rewired staircases, all thanks to the Hannibal and Will, and got her required supplies from the gun room. 

Chiyoh was an exceptional hunter, her marksmanship beyond reproach. She was very pleased when she found out that Abigail was of a somewhat similar caliber shot. Chiyoh had spent many a afternoons and mornings taking Abigail to shoot geese or ducks, and taking pleasure in her acute aim. Abigail was able to take on bigger game as well. There were no deer on the Lecter ground; however, sometimes bears came by, lazy mad with hunger just after their hibernation to raid their fruit trees and the many beehives. Abigail shot one when it came too close to their dilapidated but partly restored mansion. Chiyoh was unassumingly proud.

Abigail gutted the body that had thankfully not rotted much as it was well in the middle of winter, with snow frozen grounds and sudden flurries sometimes. She opened up the dead prisoner, pulled out his organs one at a time and splayed them around. By the time she was done, the body had been cut into manageable pieces. Abigail picked up the heart and deposited it into the ice box, in addition to one hand and one leg as well a few more of the bits and ends. The rest she cut and gutted till it was no better than chum. Chiyoh brought hot coffee and helped her drink it and afterwards, brought water so that Abigail could clean her hand. 

Abigail was born to one mother and one father, but she got two more fathers, and not one of them could be deemed normal. Her biological father went insane over losing her. Hannibal, one of the most ruthless and cannibalistic serial killer adopted her and helped her escape and still held fondness for her enough to build her a home with Chiyoh. Will, that deep ocean of empathy for everyone and love fierce and loyal for Hannibal and Abigail, who chose them both over his own moralistic ideals, loved Abigail as his own child. All three were indications enough that even without the murder spree her father went on, she would have always been something different, something that called out to people like that, killers drowning in blood.

Sometimes Abigail would think how if Will had not come with them, how she might not have even be alive now, to live at her home, to share her home with Chiyoh. She would have never met Chiyoh after all. And that sat so wrong on her mind. Chiyoh, the woman she had come to love, perhaps the first individual she had ever loved apart from her parents and Hannibal and Will, still felt like a miracle to her. She could hardly believe that she was able to meet someone like Chiyoh, for whom she would never have to draw curtains over her thought and pretend as she had to in Baltimore. 

No, with Chiyoh, she was exactly what she was, no need for any subterfuge, no need for manipulation. The location helped too, isolating her from the world itself that she didn’t even the feel the need to carry on the charade of her previous life. No, all she had to do was stay with Chiyoh and hunt with her and sleep with her and share warmth and kisses and fervid touches that made her blush and plead for more. It was an exploration for both of them, experimenting with their bodies, uncovering the secrets they didn’t know they carried. And it felt peaceful, and warm to stay within Chiyoh’s arms as she traced her hands over Abigail.

Abigail understood that she loved Chiyoh just like Chiyoh loved Abigail and she also understood that her understanding of love was crooked, never being loved by a person who wasn’t, not even her mother, but what she had with Chiyoh, what they had still felt like love enough.

Abigail sent the ice box neatly packed to Hannibal and two weeks later, Chiyoh brought back a thick envelop from the town. They had a post box there and that is how Will and Abigail usually communicated. Will and Hannibal were no longer in Paris, having been almost discovered before they could flee. But flee they did and still Will kept writing to her from the many hidey holes and secret corners of the world. Abigail, kept each of those letters with her in a small box that Chiyoh had gifted her on her birthday. 

The latest envelop, thick and sturdy, when opened, yielded faked passports for Chiyoh and Abigail along with related papers in addition to bank documents as well as four airplane tickets. Two under their fake name were to the same place. The other two led in different direction. Chiyoh looked at those two tickets and arched her eyebrows at Abigail. Abigail primly snatched the tickets and threw them into the fire blazing in the fireplace. Chiyoh gave a pleased smile at that and an amazing kiss that left Abigail gasping. 

They left two days later, taking only that which that was dear. The mansion had never been more than temporary, never more that the presence of the other to make it a home. It was a prison and as Abigail and Chiyoh stepped into the brightly lit airport of Lithuania, Abigail gave a private laugh at their glacier slow prison break. It was time to find and build a home now, and with Chiyoh by her side, the possibilities looked limitless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to write. I hope it was as fun to read for you guys. Kudos and comments, particularly the comments will be very much appreciated :)

**Author's Note:**

> Unbetaed. Ugh, I hate earthquakes, the fuck you can go then. Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments pleaseeeeeee!


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